By Yoshay Lama Lindblom

By the time I arrived on the road below the Argyll house, icy specks of rain had begun to patter on my head and the sky had declared war in a low rumble. The erratic drops soon turned into a soft drizzle as I took the small path leading to Mr. Collins' house, that glissaded downwards just below the road. The turbid sky above groaned and rumbled and occasionally a sliver of lightning slithered behind the mournful clouds. A shuddering thunder filled the expanse and the soft drizzle, gave way to an unforgiving downpour. It was clear that it was not just my heart that raged. I reached Mr. Collins' house and entered using the back door and headed towards my room directly. I understood that Mr. Collins was awake but I had the least bit of intention to attract his attention.

Back in the room, I tore away the wet clothes and sat on the edge of my bed, bent, entirely undressed letting the water drip on the floor from the tip of my nose. The dying embers in the fire place crackled softly as I climbed between the sheets with not a thread of clothing on my body. Despite being drenched in the ice cold winter rain, I was burning with a peculiar kind of heat that seemed to have ignited from somewhere in my chest. Along with the stifling heat, I felt a rage that would not abate.

Sleep evaded me entirely, and I climbed out of the bed and spent most of the night sitting on the ledge by the window watching the sky unleash its fury upon the earth. I lit a candle and looked at myself in the mirror and was bewildered to see a face of a stranger looking back at me. The amicable expression had been replaced by dark knitted brows, under which a livid pair of eyes flickered restlessly. There was a twist that had settled at the corner of my mouth that looked like a disdainful smirk. Surprised as I was, however I was not disgusted by it but on the contrary. I quite welcomed the reflection of the man that stared back at me from the mirror. I lay my hand on the dull thin outline of the mark at the centre of my chest and felt an odd sensation from it. The tips of my fingers that lay upon the mark pricked as if by a dozen tiny needles bringing back the memory of the terrifying intimacy that night.

By the time morning broke through a tumultuous night with peaceful rays of the sun caressing the casualties from the night, I was solemnly resolved to never again feel the pangs of such a thing called love. Along with my resolve, I put a lid on my affable nature and my cheerful disposition.

Mr. Collins was quiet during breakfast and I did little to humour him into small talk. He raised his eyes from the cup of tea he held and asked, "are you alright, Mr. Baxter"?

"I have never felt better, Mr. Collins" I answered without meeting his gaze. I ate with a ravenous appetite and soon after breakfast, I felt the need to take a walk in the tea gardens below so that I could walk away the heaviness of a grand breakfast and create an appetite for lunch. Mr. Collins was engaged at the Argyll house with the large party of guests from Darjeeling who had stayed on since the night before. Lord Hamish Argyll and Miss Kate had wished for a luncheon outside, and for a game of tennis in the quadrangle below the house, and their wish naturally became Mr. Collins' command.

I hastened to my room to pick my coat and hat, and as I swung the door open, I noticed a part of a white envelope that sneaked out from under the carpet. I picked up the envelope and saw that it was addressed to me but there was no name of the sender inscribed on the back of the envelope. I ripped open the envelope immediately, extracting a single page letter and read its contents.

Dear Mr. Baxter,

It has come to my notice that, you have of late been exposed to an experience of a queer nature at the Argyll House. At this point I would not like to disclose how the matter happened to reach me, but I beg you to believe me when I state that I am acquainted to your perplexity to a certain degree. I would further like to strengthen your belief in the fact that there is an air of sinister activity in the house that cannot be discerned by everybody's physical eye. Much said, I require you to meet me tomorrow in the village, below Mr. Collins' house. I shall be waiting for you by the school ??? the only one in the village. If you do come then consider your doubts eased to a certain extent. If not, then God be with you.

Yours sincerely

Pennyla Lepcha

More than surprised, I was rather curious to know what Mr. Collins' housekeeper had to tell me, soI dashed towards the tea gardens. I found Miss Pennyla waiting for me just outside an impoverished hut that carried the signboard of Rani Girls School. "Queen's Girls School". Miss Pennyla said pointing to the signboard. "Come Mr Baxter, let us sit here and I request you to call me Pennyla. Just Pennyla."

I followed Pennyla to a wooden bench outside the school overlooking a sharp slope matted with tea bushes and was at once put at ease when the breeze blowing from far below fanned the cold sweat away from my brows.

"Thank you for meeting me here Mr. Baxter and at such a short notice. I deeply appreciate it." Pennyla looked earnestly at me with worry lines etched upon her face.

"Not at all. The pleasure I must say, is all mine for I am more than eager to get to the crux of this matter. I would very much like to know more about the nature of the secrecy you wish so eagerly to impart to me." I said reassuring her of my interest in the matter. She then drew her breath as if preparing for a long speech and my undivided attention rested on what she had to say.

As she narrated the history of the house, I listened with rapt attention but deep inside I longed for her to unravel that particular part of the history that held my sole interest.

In my understanding of Pennyla's story, it seemed that, from the time the first residents of the house had arrived from the remote highlands of Scotland, and up until Lord Hamish Argyll's grandfather, Lord Alasdair Argyll's time, the house had seen many peaceful years.

It was during one of the grandest parties held at the house, thrown to honour General Lloyd's venture into the hills for the opening of a sanatorium in 1852, that a strange creature had shown up among the guests. When Pennyla spoke about her grandmother's account about a pair of strange luminous eyes glowing like hot embers, I felt as if the ground below me slide away under my feet. Pennyla paused here to give me a brief account of her family's own history because it was inevitably tied to the history of the house itself. The women in Pennyla's family had served the house since the beginning of its existence and it was her grandmother who, as a kitchen maid, had sneaked up the stairs to get a glimpse of the curious gentleman, the sight of whom had rendered the footmen speechless and in want of brandy, downstairs.

"I never discovered the gentleman's first name, but I remember his surname had something to do with crows." Pennyla said kneading her fingers on her temples as if to churn forward the name of the gentleman. The name of Lord Crowton reverberated in my mind and the memory of a smouldering pair of eyes glowing with uncanny light, floating towards me in the dark night, flashed across my mind and I bolted upright. "Are you alright Mr. Baxter?" Pennyla's voice trembled as her eyes grew wide upon seeing me bolt up from where I sat. "Pennyla, do you have any knowledge of how old this man was during the time?" I gasped. Pennyla mulled over my question trying to remember what more she could. "I am certain that he was not a very young gentleman, for my grandmother wailed and harped often on the note that the devil must have surely taken the lord over to make him strike friendship with such a ghastly creature." The same ghastly creature who now lunches and dines with Lord Hamish and Kate, I reflected. "A similar kind of shadow has descended the house again Mr. Baxter. It was one of the footmen tending at the party yesterday, who spoke of a very strange pair of eyes. The rest, did not notice a thing and if you ask me how he alone came to see what he saw, it is because he had the amulet."

I cared not a bit about any amulet, but a very small part of me deeply desired to run up to the house and rattle sense into Kate's head but a larger part of me wanted Kate to suffer the repercussion of a self inflicted fate. Therefore, I sat rooted and felt a strong wave of pleasure shiver through me, when in my mind's eye I saw a dark shadow engulfing her.

"I have come here to warn you Mr. Baxter. Do not tamper with the house. Leave while you can. Save yourself from the misery of an irrevocable affliction."

How could I? I thought. I was already a part of this irrevocable affliction. The thing that had shivered and shifted in the dark into Lord Hamish that night, was an unfathomable mystery itself to me but I was utterly convinced that the connection between Lord Hamish Argyll and Lord Crowton spanned generations stretching over the brightness of all good things and beings, adumbrating the innocent and the good with imminent calamity. What of Mr. Collins? I thought and before I mouthed the question she seemed to read my face.

"Of Mr. Collins, I cannot say more than this that he belongs to those who have been doomed for generations. He must stay here and take care of the house just like his father before him and his father before. He cannot leave. We have a relationship of which I am not ashamed and I have done my utmost best to keep him under a spell of protection. He knows nothing of my endeavour to keep him safe, so I urge you not to say anything to him in this light."

Pennyla fished out a locket still hanging around her neck from under the layers of her shawl and held it for me to see. "This" she said, "this safeguards our steps and our souls when we are under the roof of the house, when we are under its inevitable threat." She then tucked it in within the folds of the shawl and placed her hand over it as if to make certain it did not jump out. "We believe in evil as much as we do in good Mr. Baxter. We believe in magic and sorcery and we know that to fight evil, we must resort to one. As long as we do not cross the line, we are safe."

I nodded but her words made less sense to me. I was a man of the new world and superstitious balderdash certainly held no place in my intellect. I quickly thanked Pennyla for enlightening me with her story and stood up to leave when I realized that she held my hand and pressed something into my palm. She looked at me with an expression as if beseeching me to listen to her, to believe her. I pressed the amulet back into her palms expressing how sorry I was for not being able to accept such a gift. She stood rooted while I started to walk back to Mr. Collins' house. Surely, this was a world removed from mine and surely these gentle people, majority of whom had not seen the dawn of literacy and logical understanding must resort to beliefs based on irrationality, to superstitions and to protect themselves, they must find remedies in folklore passed on for generations. Where a medical practitioner failed, their witch doctor gained. In their words, I had consorted with the devil for, the one I had the immense pleasure of a physical union with, that night, had turned out to be a thing from beyond this realm. Despite my dissent of amulets and witch doctors and local superstition, I could not however, discard the fact that my experience at the house was after all based on a supernatural event but I was most certain that there had to be an explanation to all this, an explanation of a more cerebral nature.

A shrill scream pierced my ears and the nested rooks suddenly dispersed from the trees over my head. I looked up towards the Argyll house and was startled to see an inky black patch of cloud rising from a point just above the house. Like a hurricane it seemed to funnel out into the evening sky. From where I stood I could only see the roof of the house rising beyond the trees. I rushed to Mr. Collins' house where I found him headed towards the Argyll house in great hurry. ???Something is wrong, something is very wrong,??? he mumbled as he quickened his pace leaving me panting at the gate. Instead of following Mr. Collins at his heels, I sauntered into the house in an easy manner, a strange calm settling over me. A hum escaped me as I climbed up the stairs and made my way to my room. I was no longer concerned for Kate's best interest. I had ceased to care what fate befell Kate at the Argyll House.

Image Credit - http://ssdema.deviantart.com/art/Forbidden-Mansion-265933025